


Perjury Under Oath

by Powerfulweak



Series: Crimes and Misdemeanors Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Cas being an idiot, Crimes and misdemeanors, Destiel - Freeform, I swear this will end well, LARPing, M/M, NSFW, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexy Times, Top!Cas, Zachariah being an asshole, bottom!Dean, cop!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 5 of "Crimes and Misdemeanors". Castiel realizes too late that his feelings for Dean may be more than what he thought. Now he's facing even more issues when Zachariah pushes him a step too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes! Well, this story blew up! I love all of your comments and input. I know everyone was so pissed off at Cas at the end of the last part, and it will get better. He will see the error of his ways.  
> Originally, I was going to post the whole installment in one fell swoop, but I can see that everyone is eager, so you'll get the first chapter now.

 

Art by  the amazing  [Cheriiart](http://cheriiart.tumblr.com/)

 

 

Cas barely registers walking back into the bar. He lurches back to his stool, a concerned Balthazar looking on. Before he can say a word, Cas chugs the remainder of his beer in one swig.

“Cassie, what was that? Did you and your little boyfriend have a tiff?” Castiel’s whole body seems to clench at the word.

“Not my boyfriend,” He mutters as he plops back onto the stool. He raises a finger, signaling the bartender for another. He can feel Balthazar’s eye on him, burning holes into the side of his head.

“Bal, I said I didn’t want to talk.,” Cas says stiffly, “That still remains true. Now shut up and drink your fucking beer.” Cas has always been told that his poker face was exceptional and right now he hoped it was true, because internally he was screaming. What was Dean’s problem? Why couldn’t he have just left well enough alone? What they had was good; better than good really. It was fantastic; mutually beneficial and mutually satisfying. There wasn’t any reason to screw it up with any sort of relationship. And really, what relationship was there to speak of? They knew nothing about each other.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose tightly.

No, that wasn’t exactly true. Cas knew that Dean was an orphan, he had a younger brother and he was originally from Kansas. He knew that Dean drank black coffee with a dash of sugar. He knew that Dean made pop culture references that Cas just did not understand (He always called Cas ‘Jimmy McNulty’ and then berated Cas when he said he’d never seen “The Wire”). He loved his car, pie and something called LARPing. He worked long hours because “Stanford isn’t going to pay for itself”, referring to his brother. He sang Zeppelin and Asia songs in the shower at the top of his lungs and when Cas would mouth the tender skin right behind his ear he made the nicest little noises.

Cas takes a long pull off his bottle. He’ll admit he knows more about Dan than he had previously thought, but still everything they did was centered on sex. They had had their first blow job before their first real conversation. That is not how you start a healthy relationship.

And even more than that, Cas is under a lot of fucking pressure at work. The last thing he needs is a distraction and Dean definitely falls into that category.

“Castiel,” Balthazar says after a long while, “I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk, but could you please not think so loud?” Cas gives his friend a sad half smile and sips his beer.

“I’ll try to think quieter,” he says lightly. He pulls his wallet out and slaps a twenty on the bar, “I’m headed home. You going to stick around some?” Castiel could see a few of the women in the place eyeing Balthazar and, knowing his friend, he was going to make a valiant effort to bed all of them at once.

“Yes, I think I shall,” Bal says, his lips curling into a grin. Cas claps him on the shoulder before heading out into the autumn air.

Cas heavily climbs the stairs to his apartment. He feels numb all over, like a wool blanket is wrapped around every nerve. It’s actually a welcome change from the tightly wound anxiety of earlier tonight. He knows this feeling is temporary, but tonight he’s going to enjoy the reprieve. Still, there is a tiny twinge in the back of his mind about Dean. It’s a strange ache, but he can feel it like pins and needles in his brain. For a brief second, he wishes he could text Dean and fuck the pain away, and that thought just seems to make it worse.

Cas falls face first onto his bed, fully dressed, with a grunt. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts. the ‘D’ on the screen stares back at him. His thumb hovers over the little message icon before he quickly hits _Edit_ and scrolls down to _Delete Contact_.

This is what Dean wants. He said “lose my number” and that is just what Cas is doing. A message box pops up asking to _Delete D?_. Cas sighs and closes his eyes, pressing the _Yes_ button.

 

****

 

Dean turns the key in the lock and opens his apartment door. He’s greeted by a snoring Sam passed out on the couch, calves hanging off over the side. JBTV blares in the background. Dean pulls the remote out of Sam’s loose grip and switches off the TV. Sam stirs awake suddenly.

“You’re back,” he mumbles, “What time is it?” Dean glances at the clock above the stove.

“11:33,” He answers.

“Didn’t think you’d be home this early,” Sam remarks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Dean slumps down besides him on the couch.

“Neither did I,” Dean answers. He’s completely drained from tonight’s events. Out of the corner of his vision, he can see Sam pulling a face. It’s his “talking” face.

“Have you been drinking?” It’s a fair question, but it still pisses Dean off. He gives a quick shake of his head, but doesn’t look at Sam.

“Did you and your boyfriend have a fight or something?” He asks, concerned. Dean gives a humorless snort.

“Not my boyfriend, actually.” He mutters bitterly. Sam’s eyes narrow and he looks like he is about to say something, but Dean cuts him off, “Don’t worry about it, Sam. Why don’t you take the bed tonight? I’ll crash out here.” This seems to distract Sam from whatever he was going to say. He rises and calls a ‘goodnight’ to Dean before closing the door of the apartment's single bedroom.

Dean rises from the sofa and shrugs off his jacket. He switches off the kitchen light and toes off his boots before slipping out of his jean. He sighs heavily as he stretches out on the couch. This was not the night he’d planned. He’d been hoping to curl up next to Cas after getting his brains fucked out. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into the cushion, attempting to stave off the tears. After walking away from Cas, he’d hopped onto the train and allowed himself a few brief minutes to quietly cry in the company of strangers. His head hurt and his heart hurt. The look on Cas’ face tonight, he just couldn’t seem to forget it. It was this strange mix of confusion, rejection and pity and it made Dean want to disappear. He can’t believe he had misjudged the situation, misjudged Cas, so completely.

The way Cas would touch him, how he’d brush his fingers along Dean’s jaw just before he’d kiss him, it had felt like caring. It felt like love, to be honest.

But it wasn’t.

Dean rolls over and rubs his temples. Cas probably thought he was a crazy stalker, too. He had no idea Cas wa going to go to the Roadhouse, hell, the Roadhouse was his bar. When he had seen Cas and what’s his name _(Balto? Brabazon? Whatever)_ , he had just seen red. Christ, he came off like such a pathetic asshole. Cas is probably laughing it up how he got some stupid twink completely hooked on him.

Dean wants to be angry, so angry. He wants to rail and curse and smash the shit out of something, but… but he just can’t. He just feels sad.

He sighs heavily. There’s no way he’s falling asleep right now. He stands and walks to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. He stares out the kitchen window into nothing. There isn’t much of a view, just their neighbor’s back yard. He needs a change of scenery. He was serious about Key West. Maybe he and Sam can just go down there for the summer. They can wade around in the ocean, soak up some sun and Dean can clear his head, get _Castiel Novak_ out of his system.

He walks back into the living room and lays down on the couch, extending his long legs past the arm rest. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep. He knows eventually, sooner than later, he’ll no longer be in love with Cas. For some reason, that hurts worst of all.

 

***

The thrum of the squad room seems to fade around Castiel as he works. He types methodically, studiously working his way through his way through reports. Over the last few weeks, he’d developed a pretty steady routine: wake up, run, shower, go to work, do his job, don’t think about Dean. All and all, he’s been mostly successful at it but extracting Dean from his thoughts turned out to be a lot more difficult than he’d initially thought. He’d slipped up a handful of times, letting his mind wander to the memory of Dean’s smile or the way he’d look at Cas when he was talking. Dean’s eyes would always linger on him, as if he was the only person on earth worth listening to.

Cas realizes that he’s stopped typing. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and refocuses on his task. He only has a couple more weeks until he’s reinstated into patrol and he’s determined not to jeopardize it. He just has to keep his head low and stay under the radar. That would be a whole lot easier, though, if Zachariah hadn’t decided to make Cas his new project.

His meeting with Chuck about Cas’ “dad” was just the beginning. Zachariah’s torment had increased exponentially, especially when he’d realized that Cas was taking the path of least resistance. He would report him for harassment, but Zachariah’s smart. He knows just how to get under Castiel’s skin without being obvious.

Zachariah now insisted on using the first floor break room rather than the one near his own office upstairs. He’d casually mention getting new business cards to fellow officers in the break room when Cas is in earshot, saying how he’s careful who he gives them to. Newspaper clippings about law enforcement officers landing in prison would anonymously end up on his desk or he’d arrive in the morning with items rearranged just enough so that it seemed as if someone had been snooping. A few days ago, Samandriel had approached Cas and asked if he would like to attend bible study with him since he’d heard Cas was attending a support group for sex addicts and was having some trouble. Cas had only been able to give a manic laugh in response. He knew Zachariah played dirty, but this was a low even for him.

Cas’ eyes start to strain and he presses the heel of his hands into them. He glances at the empty mug on his desk and mentally calculates how many cups of coffee he’s had in the last four hours. He sighs and stands from his desk. He could use a short break.

When he enters the bathroom, it’s empty. Cas quickly relieves himself and washes his hands when the door opens with a thud.

“Castiel,” Zachariah. _of course_ , “Just the man I was looking for.” Cas rolls his eyes and grabs a paper towel from the dispenser to dry his hands. He tries to push past Zachariah when a large hand lands on his shoulder.

“Oh ho, where do you think you’re going?” Zachariah says with a malicious grin. Cas notices a report folder clutched in his other hand.

“Back to work-” Cas starts to say.

“Oh, but I’ve got something here you’ve got to see,” Zachariah enthuses. He holds up the folder, opens it and begins to read.

“Dean Henry Winchester, born 24 January 1993. Several arrests, fraud, public disturbance, assault, the list goes on. Impressive for someone so young.” Zachariah nods slowly, “No family of record, except one. Says here he has a younger brother, age 16. Wonder how he’s able to be legal guardian with all charges? I bet DCFS would _love_ to hear about this.” Zachariah grins vindictively. All the blood seems to drain from Cas’ face. He’s stuck to the spot, unable to move his feet.

“Your little friend and I are going to have a good time,” Zachariah hisses.

“Leave Dean out of this,” Cas’ voice is flat and cool. Zachariah gives him a piteous look.

“Now why the hell would I that?” He says with a caustic sneer.

“He has nothing to do with this,” Cas insists, a plea bleeding through in his voice.

“No, you see, he does,” Zachariah laughs condescendingly, “See, _You_ are a thorn in my fucking side. You care about our little buddy, Dean, here. Therefore, I am going to have so much fun fucking with him.” His last words seem to burn Cas’ ears and he sees red.

Zachariah isn’t much taller than Cas, but he has at least 50 lbs on him. This doesn’t stop Cas from physically slamming Zachariah against the back wall of the bathroom, lifting him a couple inches off the ground and pressing his forearm into his throat.

“Listen to me you greasy little fuck-stain,” Cas spits out, “If you lay one finger on Dean, if you even _think_ about him, I will come after you and everything you love.” Zachariah’s jaw twitches. He snorts softly.

“You don’t get it, Novak-”

“No you don’t get it!” Cas barks, thrusting his arms harder into his throat, “I. Am. Not. Fucking around. I will _end you_ and make it look like an accident!” Cas can only imagine that he looks as unhinged as he feels right now. Zachariah’s eyes go wide and he inhales sharply.

“Clear?” Cas asks.

“Completely,” Zachariah answers cooly. Cas loosens his arm and lets him go. Zachariah rubs at his throat. Cas turns away from him and scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Y’know, I don’t get you Novak.” Zachariah grouses, “What’s so special about this guy? Twinks like him are a dime a dozen. You could’ve gotten one with a little less mileage on him, at least.” He shakes his head and checks his suit in the mirror, straightening his tie, “I mean with this kid’s rap sheet, I can bet he’s spread his legs for every precinct from here to-” Zachariah doesn’t even see Cas’ fist flying toward his face until it connects.

Castiel pulls back with an hiss, clutching his throbbing hand. Zachariah staggers backward. He knocks into the wall and drags a hand across his face, noticing the trail of blood it leaves as he does. His expression blooms from shock into a satisfied little smile.

“Oh, you’ve fucked up now,” He says, “You have no idea the shit storm you’ve just brought down on yourself.” He picks himself up, pressing a hand to his nose to stop the bleeding.

“I was just having some fun with you, but it seems like you’re ready to play with the big boys,” Zachariah grabs a paper towel, pressing it to his face. He leans in close to Cas. “Prepare to hear from IAB before the end of the day.” He storms past Cas, slamming through the bathroom door.

Castiel stands in the middle of the room, stunned, cradling his hand. His mouth hangs open loosely. What the fuck did he just do? _What the Fuck did he just do?_ He looks up and catches sight of himself in the mirror: hair askew, eyes wild, a thin film of sweat forming at his brow. He lurches backwards and slides down the wall, letting his head fall into his hands. He can feel his heart beating frantically in his chest, the sound of it drowning out all other noises in the room.

“Shit.” the word echoes through the empty space.

 

***

Castiel hears the front door unlock, but doesn’t look up from his spot on the living room floor.

“Castiel?” Balthazar says carefully, catching sight of him as he enters. Cas’ eyes are shut but he can feel Bal approaching, “What are you doing home?”

“Sent home. Suspended. Again.” Castiel answers, ”Reconvening my board.”

“Why?” Bal says with disbelief.

“Punched Zachariah.”

"You're kidding."

"Nope," Cas opens his eyes in time to catch his friend’s pleased smile.

“Are you drunk?” Bal asks. He’s already noticed the bottle of vodka on the table, picking it up and glancing at it.

“Nope,” Cas shakes his head lamely, “Just… warm.” Cas isn’t a big drinker. He was still nursing his first vodka and orange juice, although he won’t admit that to Bal for fear of getting called a lightweight. He sits up slowly and leans back against his hands.

“I fucked up, Bal.” He admits, looking up at his friend.

“Punching Adler? I’d say so.”

“No, no,” Cas waves his hand dismissively, “Before that. With Dean.” His shoulders slump and his head falls toward his chest. He pushes off the floor and flops onto the couch, letting his face fall into the armrest.

“Ah,” Bal answers, coming around and sitting down next to Castiel, “Your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Cas mumbles into the upholstery. Bal pats his back lightly before picking his cup up off the floor. He sniffs Cas’ drink then unscrews the vodka bottle, adding a healthy pour to the cup.

“Here” Bal says, nudging Cas, “Stop moping and drink this.” Cas sits up and takes the cup. He nearly chokes as he takes a drink, coughing hard through the burn of the alcohol. He hears Bal mutter “lightweight” under his breath.

“Now,” Balthazar says, gripping his shoulders, “You’re going to talk. Tell me what is going on with you?” Cas looks away from his friend and leans his head back against the sofa. He takes a sip of his 50/50 orange and vodka mix.

“Do you have a couple hours?” Cas says, defeated.

“For you, Cassie, I have all day,” Bal says, “Now talk.”

So he does.

 

***

It takes a long while, but Castiel tells him everything. When he finishes talking, they sit there in silence for several minutes. Balthazar seems to be absorbing the information.

“Well, that was quite… Informative,” He finally says. Cas snorts and picks up his cup, draining the rest of his (now third) drink.

“I have one question for you, Castiel,” Bal says, turning to look at his friend, “Why on Earth did you tell this Dean that you weren’t in a relationship?” Cas looks up and grimaces at him.

“Because we aren’t, we weren’t.” He replies with some irritation, “It was just sex.”

“Ah-huh,” Bal says with nod, a calculating glimmer in his eye, “Tell me, Castiel, did you leave right after?”

“What?”

“Did you leave right after you’d finished having sex?” Balthazar clarifies. Cas shakes his head slowly.

“No, not always,” _not ever_ , Cas thinks.

“Did you spend the night?” Bal continues.

“Sometimes.”

“Did he ever spend the night here?”

“Uh, yeah” Cas admits, noticing Balthazar’s arched brow at the response.

“Did you talk?”

“Yeah, of course,”

“About things other than sex?”

“Yeah,” Cas nods, unclear as to where this is headed.

“About things like, oh, I don’t know, likes, dislikes, family, occupations, hopes, dreams…?” Balthazar gives Cas a smug look, almost certain of the answer

“Yes,” Cas mumbles with a frown.

“Did you ever go on a date?” Cas has to laugh there.

“No, that never happened.” He says firmly.

“Are you sure?” Bal asks, raising an eyebrow, “You never spent any time together where sex wasn’t the objective?” A memory of going to see Dean’s friend’s band flashes through Cas’ mind.

“Does it count if some sort of sex eventually did happen?” Cas says, averting his gaze to his cuticles.

“Still a date.”

“Then yes,” Cas answers with a heavy sigh.

“Finally, Cassie,” Bal crosses his arms over his chest, “If you didn’t care about him, then why did you act like you did and attack Adler like that?” Balthazar’s interrogation training had served him well. Castiel lets his head fall into his hands with a groan.

“Just as I thought. Castiel, you appear to be the proud owner of a BF 5000.” Balthazar grins smugly at his own cleverness. Cas just shakes his head sadly in his hand.

“Had,” he mutters, “Had a boyfriend. Past tense. Fucking hates me now,” He looks up, his expression dour.

“He told me to delete his number and I did. That’s it. Done.” Castiel goes to reach for his bottle, but it is quickly snatched away.

“No, no more of that,” Bal hides the bottle out of Cas’ reach, “Don’t worry, Cassie, we’ll get this all figured out. Just give me a couple days and we’ll figure out how to fix-”

“No,” His voice is flat and stern, “No more. No more ‘fixing’ things. I’m done trying to… buck the system.” He rises from the couch on wobbly legs. Balthazar looks like he is about to say something, but he is cut-off.

“No, Bal, it’s time for me to get what’s coming to me. I’ve earned this,” Cas’ face is completely dismal, “I am a fuck up. It’s time for me to face the music.” He turns and heads down the hallway before Balthazar can say anything.

“I’m headed to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” Cas calls before entering his room and slamming the door.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s chain mail rattles as he slumps against the wall. It’s a particularly warm day for early October and he can feel a bead of sweat run from underneath his viking wig down the nape of his neck. He carefully wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic, trying not to mess up his warpaint.

“Dean?” Charlie glares at him expectantly.

“Hmm?” He answers

“Did you hear what I just said?” She asks.

“We, um… We attack at Dawn?” He mutters.

“The Orc King wants meet to discuss a truce,” Charlie sighs, “You’ve been a space cadet all day. You need to focus. I can’t have my handmaiden off her game”

“For the last time, I am your personal guard, _not your handmaiden_!” Dean insists.

“Hey, if the slipper fits, _m’lady_.” Charlie says playfully.

“Call me that again, and I’m buying you a fedora,” Dean warns. Charlie’s eyes narrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she counters.

“Try me,” he challenges. He normally has a lot of fun at their LARPing events. They give him a chance to be a warrior and fight battles, even if it is with foam swords. Today is just not working for him, though. He’s put on a happy face for his friends, trying to act as normal as possible, but his mind keeps lingering on Cas and it’s making him distracted and miserable. Last week, he finally broke down and told Sam the bare-bones account of what happened, just enough to satisfy his well-meaning younger brother. Sam’s exact words were “Fuck him. You can do better.” Dean had to laugh, the language was so unexpected from Sam.

“Are you doing alright, Dean?” Charlie piped up, “You’re not yourself right now.” She wore a worried frown. Dean gave her a sad smile; Charlie was awesome. She could be a little weird, but she was good people and one of the few people Dean felt like he could really count on in life.

“It’s just…” He shrugs and struggles to find the words, “I was seeing this guy for awhile, well, I thought I was seeing him, and a few weeks ago I saw him at a bar with another man. I thought he was stepping out on me, but it turns out the guy was his roommate.” Charlie nods as he talks, her brow pulled together tight.

“Anyway, he was like ‘Why’d you think I was cheating? We’re not even dating?’ but I thought we were.” Dean’s voice starts to rise, “And now I look like some crazy stalker because I showed up at the bar, even though it’s my bar!”

“This was at the Roadhouse?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah! And he was like ‘you’re a great kid, Dean.’” Dean imitates Cas’ low timbre. Charlie grimaces

“Ooh, ‘kid’. That’s gotta hurt,” she says.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees sadly, “And the thing is, I really liked the guy. Like, a lot.” He averts his eyes, and kicks at a stray rock on the ground.

“Damn,” Charlie says after a long pause, “That sucks. No wonder you’re such a buzzkill right now.” Dean jerks his head up, ready to argue, when one of the lower guards approaches Charlie.

“Your highness, the Elven King requests an audience,” Dean is immediately on guard. The Elves didn’t normally interact with the Moondoorians. They tended to stay in their “realm” on the south corner of the park and only came out for battles. Dean thinks they’re snooty, but Charlie says that most of them are cool in small doses.

“Let him pass,” Charlie announces, adjusting her own tunic and royal sash. The guards immediately part to let the Elven King through. As soon as he approaches, Dean’s jaw nearly drops to the ground.

“Your Highness,” The Elven King greets, “As always, it is a pleasure to see you.” He takes Charlie’s hand and kisses it. The morning sun glints off the thin gold crown that rests at his temples.

“It’s wonderful to see you too, your Majesty,” Charlie says with perfectly practiced diplomacy, “You look very well. Tell me, for what reason are we graced with your presence?” The King straightens and his shoulders, relaxing slightly.

“I was hoping to speak to your guard here,” He says, turning his attention to Dean, “Privately,” he adds. Charlie casts a sidelong glance at Dean, who shrugs slightly in return.

“Of course,” Charlie answers. She turns to Dean, “I shall be in my quarters,” Dean nods and watches as she disappears into her tent. Dean turns his attention to the King.

“I thought I recognized you,” he smirks. The other man raises a questioning brow. Dean rolls his eyes, “Your Highness,” he mutters, to the man’s pleased smile

“As did I.” the King says, “You look different with long hair.”

“You look different with pointy ears,” Dean retorts, “Benedict, right?”

“Balthazar, actually.”

“Right,” Dean says with a humorless smirk, “Look, if you want to threaten me about staying away from Cas, done.” He holds up his hands defensively.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Balthazar says cooly. Dean snorts.

“So what, did Cas send you to apologize for him? ‘Cause that’s pretty weak,” Dean bites out. Balthazar gives him a patient look, like a parent riding out a tantrum.

“Of course not. Castiel doesn’t know I’m here,” he answers, “He doesn’t even know I do this.” Dean scrunches up his face in confusion.

“What does he _think_ you do on the weekends?” He asks.

“Any number of things, but certainly not this,” He responds, flicking at one of his prosthetic ears. “I am here on Castiel’s behalf, though.” Dean’s face instantly goes hard.

“No,” he declares tensely, “Not going to happen,” Dean turns to walk away.

“Are you really going to let your pride keep you from the man that you love?” Balthazar calls out, stopping Dean in his tracks. He turns back to Balthazar, eyes wide.

“It’s written all over your face,” Balthazar says, answering the unasked question, “Clearly, you care a lot about him. And he cares about you too.”

“Yeah right,” Dean mutters, looking away.

“No, he does,” Balthazar is quick to defend his friend, “He does care for you. Much more than I think he even understands.” Dean looks up to see sincerity in Balthazar’s eyes.

“He knows he hurt you,” the older man continues, “He understands how badly he screwed things up and he hates himself for it.” Dean flops back against the wall. He doesn’t want to hear this. As much as he’s tried to hate Cas these last few weeks, the thought of Cas in pain still causes his heart to clench.

“Castiel is a good man.” Balthazar continues, “Very analytical, it makes him a good cop, but social cues are not his forte, even within himself. He’s had a plan for his life since he was a child, and I don’t think he ever accounted too much for relationships. But he does feels things very deeply, especially for you.”

“It’d be nice to hear it from him,” Dean says sadly.

“He won’t do that,” Balthazar offers, giving Dean a wan smile, “One of the wonderful things about Cassie is that when someone he cares about tells him to do something, he does it. No questions asked. And you told him to leave you alone.” Dean’s frown deepens. He thinks his exact words were ‘lose my number’. He scrubs a hand over his face.

“Is this what you came here to tell me?” Dean asks, annoyed. Balthazar straightens, once again entering ‘King’ mode.

“No, actually. I need your help,” He answers, “You obviously know something about Castiel’s troubles at work, yes?”

“Yeah, with that Zachariah asshole, right” Balthazar hums in confirmation.

“Hard to believe, but the situation has actually gotten worse.” He says. Dean’s eyes go wide and a knot of worry twists in his stomach.

“How bad?” He asks tentatively.

“Very, very bad,” Balthazar answers, “And Castiel has lost any drive to fight it. He needs my help.” He looks pointedly at Dean, “And I need you.” Realization of the severity of what Balthazar is asking of him suddenly descends on him. His face hardens.

“Why should I help him? He doesn’t even want to help himself,” Dean says crossing his arms over his chest. Balthazar tilts his head; it’s a movement so suggestive of Cas. He wonders who rubbed off on who.

“Because you love  him,” He states plainly, “You care about what happens to him, and deep down you believe that he cares about you, which he does.” Balthazar approaches Dean.

“But mostly, Dean,” His demeanor hardens instantly, “Because we both know that if it wasn't for you, he wouldn’t be in this mess.” Dean’s clenches his jaw and averts his eyes, ashamed.

“Castiel won’t ever admit, and I doubt he even believes it,” Balthazar’s expression darkens, “But you and I both know the truth, don’t we?” Dean swallows hard. Cas’ friend could be downright frightening when he wanted to be. He was right, though; Dean had been eaten up with guilt every time Cas mentioned work, his suspension or Zachariah. Cas doesn’t deserve to lose his job and he certainly doesn’t deserve to go to prison. Dean needed to help fix this; he owed Cas that much at least.

“Alright,” Dean says quietly, “What do you need me to do?”

 

***

 

Castiel sits on the hard wooden bench outside the Hearing Room. It had taken just over a week to schedule his hearing, thanks to Zachariah expediting everything. His union rep said he’d meet Cas here, but he seems to be running late. Cas checks his phone for missed calls, but his signal is spotty within the walls of the station.

He’s tense and there is the tell-tale throb of a headache forming right behind his eyes. He looks up and considers his reflection in the mirrored wall that lines the hallway. He didn’t sleep at all last night and it shows. His whole body seems deflated. Deep purple bags line his eyes and furrows have begun to form across his forehead. His shoulders slump in, chafing against the fabric of his dress uniform. The wool jacket is stiff from lack of use and he feels choked by the tie. He picks up his cap from beside him and holds it in his hands. He brushes a thumb over the emblem on the front.

He’s going to miss being a cop. He’s going to miss his freedom too, but not same way. Being a police officer had been his dream. Everything he’d done for the last 15 years of his life was all just a means to this. It gave him purpose and a sense of self, like he mattered. Nothing in his life had made him feel that  way… well, until Dean.

Cas lets his head drop into his palm. He can’t think about Dean right now. It will only serve to make him miserable and right now he has to be collected as possible. He needs to remain stoic and take his punishment like a man.

Cas suddenly notices the time. It’s 1:30. He was scheduled to testify at noon. He realizes that no one has gone in or come out of the hearing room in some time. He stands and approaches the door. Taking a deep breath, he opens it.

Rather than a 7-person panel, the room holds no one; it’s empty. Cas looks around. He keeps turning, expecting someone to pop out from behind him.

“They’re gone,” a voice says. Cas looks up to see Zachariah glaring back at him from the doorway, “The board has adjourned.” Zachariah clenches his jaw. If Cas didn’t know better, he’d say he was pouting.

“I… I don’t understand,” Cas stutters. eyes wide and confused.

“The case was dismissed. With prejudice.” Zachariah snarls, “All charges dropped” He huffs a sour laugh. Relief crashes over Castiel so hard he fears he might pass out. He wants to fall into a nearby chair, when Zachariah fists the lapel of Cas’ jacket and pulls him in.

“I don’t know how you and your little buddy Roche did it, but I am going to find out.” Zachariah sneers, “You may have gotten away with it time, but I _know_ you are dirty,” Zachariah throws Cas out of his grip. Castiel stumbles a little before regaining his footing. He is confused. Balthazar? What did he have to do with this?

“Balthazar? Why…?” He murmurs. “I don’t understand.” Zachariah casts a withering look.

“Sure you don’t,” he says sarcastically, “Roche just decided to testify on your behalf without your knowledge. Said him and Winchester go way back and he told you to let him go.” Cas feels like all the air is punched out of his lungs. Zachariah shakes his head in disgust.

“The charges were all dropped,” Cas realizes, finally sliding into a chair. His legs were on the brink of giving out beneath him.

“I was told very clearly that I was not to bring this case to their attention again, under threat of punitive action.” Zachariah says, angry disappointment seeping into every word. Cas rubs his hands down his face, relief flooding through his entire body, eliciting a shiver down his spine. He’d cry if Zachariah wasn’t in the room. Suddenly a thought worrying occurs to him. He stands quickly.

“I gotta go,” Cas says, turning to leave. Before he can, Zachariah grips his arm painfully.

“Your luck can only last so long, Novak,” Zachariah hisses. Cas glares at him and jerks his arm away like his skin burns from the contact. “Sooner or later you are going to slip up and when you do, I will come down on you like a hammer. Mark my words” Zachariah’s sallow eyes are wide and frantic. Cas meets his gaze for a long moment before a tired, sick laugh bubbles up from within him.

“Y’know Zach,” He says, running a hand through his hair, “If that is all you have to look forward to, I pity you.” His face hardens on the last word. He stares Zachariah down before turning and quickly leaving the hearing room.  

 

***

Balthazar is pulling a deep blue v-neck over his head when Castiel storms into the locker room.

“Cassie, what a pleasant surprise,” he comments. Cas grips his arm tight, dragging him through the locker room and throwing him into a utility closet. He follows him inside, closing the door behind them. His senses are assaulted by the smell industrial cleaners, stagnant water and dust. He switches on the light, bathing both men in harsh fluorescent light.

“There is a joke in here somewhere, I just know it,” Balthazar mumbles as he examines his surroundings. Cas glares at him.

“Why?” he asks cooly. Balthazar turns his attention to him, expression blank.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, clearly playing innocent.

“Why did you do it?” Cas asks, crossing his arms. His irritation is barely hidden.

“Your hearing,” Balthazar says after a minute, a coy grin playing at his lips.

“Yes,” Cas hisses, “Why did you testify?”

“Because you are my friend, Castiel,” Bal says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, “and you didn’t deserve Zachariah’s abuse, whether or not you thought otherwise.” Cas rubs at his temples. His friend’s concern is much appreciated, but at what cost?

“You are risking your career for me.” Cas mutters, frowning deeply.

“Am I?” Bal asks.

“You lied.” Cas’ voice is agitated, “You perjured yourself.  You said you knew Dean, that you’re friends. Bal, If this ever surfaces…” Cas let’s his words drop, unwilling to think about the consequences for Bal or even himself. The relief from earlier seems to have evaporated, replaced with fear for his friend. Bal tilts his head and stares at Cas.

“Who said I lied?” He replies. Cas looks up to see Balthazar calmy smirking. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, opening an app and pressing buttons until he finds the screen he wants. He gathers in close to Cas and hands him the phone. It is a large group photo of men and women dressed in Medieval garb, all of whom are carrying various forms of weaponry.

“That right there is me, in the back, and down in the corner is your boy Dean, he looks different with the wig, I know,” Cas examines the image. Bal is right, that is Dean. His face is painted like something out of Braveheart and a stringy blond wig falls just past his shoulders. His expression is hard, but his eyes are bright and full of life. He’s having fun.

“What is this?” Cas mumbles, not quite processing what he’s seeing.

“It’s from last year’s Grand Battle for my LARPing group.” Bal answers.

“Larping?” Cas asks, familiar with the word, but not the concept.

“Live Action Role Playing,” Bal clarifies. Cas looks at Bal, mouth agape. He holds up one finger, trying to process everything.

“We are going to discuss whatever this is later,” Cas sputters out, holding up the phone, “But first: Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Dean?!”

“Well, I didn’t really _know_ him,” Bal says, taking his phone back from Cas, “He’s in a different clan, but we’ve done battle a few times. I didn’t recognize him at first. It took me a few days after he stormed into the bar to put two and two together.” Cas lets himself fall back against one of the supply shelves.

“But how?... “ Cas trails off, “You told them you said to let Dean go.”

“I said that you were doing me a personal favor for a friend and you took the rap because you felt that saying anything would be ratting me out,” Bal gives him a satisfied smile. Cas shakes his head, still puzzled.

“But the card?”

“I gave Dean both of our cards, just in case he was ever in a jam and one of us wasn’t available.” Bal responds, clearly pleased that he had an answer to all of Castiel’s question.

“So you did lie,” Cas says flatly.

“I did not,” Bal assures, “I just may have not been clear on exactly _when_ I gave him the cards,” Bal moves past Castiel and reaches for the handle, opening the closet door. He herds Cas out into the locker room.

“So they just took your word for it?” Cas asks.

“Well, Dean’s input helped,” Cas’ head shot up at that.

“Dean? Dean was here?”

“He had a signed affidavit, actually. Admitted to escaping and everything.” Bal says as he heads back to his lockers. Cas follows close behind

“He’s… He’s not in custody, is he?” Cas asks tentatively.

“Well, he was facing a fine of sorts,” Bal says as he grabs his jacket out of the locker, “But by the end I think the board was just so sick of it all, they dismissed all charges.” Castiel finds himself exhaling heavily in relief. He falls onto the bench and stares up at Balthazar as he shuts his locker.

“But how am I in the clear?” Cas says shaking his head, “I punched Zachariah!” Balthazar rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you’ve done something the entire department has dreamed of doing for at least six years now. You’ll probably receive some kind of commendation medal for it.” He levels his stare at Cas, “Believe me, the board didn’t give a shit about that.” Cas sighs heavily, averting his eyes.

“Thank you, Bal,” He says quietly. Bal smiles warmly in response.  
“Always, Cassie,” He says, leaning against his locker.

“I don’t deserve any of it,” Cas mutters sadly, “I’m a fuck-up.” Balthazar’s expression goes hard.

“Castiel, you are not a fuck-up, you fucked up” he states firmly, “A fuck-up doesn’t care who they hurt. A fuck-up doesn’t try to fix their mistakes. A fuck up is doesn’t take responsibility for their actions.” Balthazar sits down on the bench next to Cas.

“That isn’t you, Cassie,” He continues, “You made a mistake. It was bad, but you wouldn’t do that again, would you?” Balthazar raises a questioning eyebrow. Cas shakes his head silently.

“We all fuck up. It’s human nature.” Bal pats and encouraging hand on his back, “But if you don’t get off your ass right now and go find Dean and try to make things right, or at least sincerely apologize, that you actually will be, well and truly, a fuck up.” The words hang heavy in Cas’ ear and he can feel the hum of eager anticipation running through him.

“I have to find him,” Cas says quietly. Balthazar grins brightly and squeezes his shoulder.

“That’s my boy. Now go get your boyfriend.” Cas suddenly looks at him with a worried expression.

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” Cas says. Balthazar shakes his head fondly.

“Do you really think he would have helped you avoid jail time if he didn’t feel something for you?” Cas can’t help but huff a relieved laugh at that. He stands and quickly makes his way to the exit.

“Castiel,” Balthazar calls after. Cas turns just before he reaches the door, “If you do anything to hurt that dear boy, I am soaking your underwear in hamburger then siccing the K9 unit on you.” Castiel laughs brightly, nodding, before dashing out the door.

 

***

Cas is beginning to sweat through his shirt by the time he reaches Dean’s apartment. Indian summer is in full swing and he can feel claminess blooming all over his skin. He was still without a squad car and had to take public transportation to reach Dean’s neighborhood. His jacket is folded over his arm, tie stuffed in his pocket and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He’s out of regs, but right now his focus lies on getting to Dean.

He removes his hat as he approaches the building. Someone had left the front door propped open, so Castiel is able to slip in without ringing the buzzer. He climbs the three flights to Dean’s floor. As he stops in front of Dean’s door, he takes a deep breath. Now or never, he thinks, knocking on it.

He stands in silence as he waits for an answer. After several seconds, he begins to fear that no one is home. Before he can decide whether it would be better to wait by the door or not, he hears footsteps approaching on the opposite side of the door. It opens to reveal the lanky form of Sam Winchester.

“Hello Sam,” Cas says. Sam’s expression is icy.

“Hi,” He says. There is a beat as He waits for Sam to say something.

“um, Is Dean here?” Cas finally asks after a minute of silence. Sam shakes his head, not taking his gaze off of Cas. “Do you… Do you know where he is?” Sam doesn’t respond; he just stands there like a statue, staring Cas down.

“Is he at work?” There is no answer. “Is that a ‘yes’?” Sam’s eyes just narrow, he anger towards Cas palpable in the air.

“Can you tell me where he is?” He asks, receiving the barest shake of a head in reply. Cas sighs in frustration.

“Please, Sam. I need to see him,” he begs, “I just … Just need to talk to him.” Sam’s jaw clenches as his eyes bore through Castiel

“You really hurt him, you know,” he finally says. Cas nods sadly.

“I know, I know. I’m a fucking idiot,” Cas admits, “And I just need to see him and find some way to make this right, or at least apologize for my behavior… Please.” Cas knows he is groveling. He doesn’t care. Sam’s expression seems to soften somewhat at that.

“He works at a place called Singer’s.” Sam sighs, “It’s up in Ravenswood.” Castiel can’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Sam,” He says, “So much.” Sam nods, but before Cas can move away from the door, all 6”4’ of Winchester crowds in on him.

“If you ever hurt him again,” Sam’s expression is blank, but his eyes betray him, “I’ll break all of your fingers.” Cas swallows hard at the threat.

“Heard and understood,” he murmurs. He backs away slowly, mumbling a goodbye as Sam steps back into the apartment and closes the door.

 

***

Dean is slapping Bondo into the dings on the side of some souped-up rice burner, when Bobby comes into the garage.

“Dean, are you in trouble?” the older man says, leaning on the side of the car. “Do you need me to call a bail bondsmen or something?” Dean lifts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“What are talking about?” He asks.

“Because there’s a cop at the front counter asking for you.” Dean frowns. After the last few days, he’s had enough police interactions to last him a lifetime, but he’s not about to tempt fate. He grabs a shop towel and wipes off his hands as he makes his way to the lobby.

Standing in the small lobby, dark hair matted to his forehead and wet stains forming under his arms, is Cas. He looks like he was presentable at some point earlier in the day, but has been put through the ringer since. His collar is loosened and the top button is undone. He hasn’t seen Dean and is quietly looking around the lobby as he waits.

Dean stops for a moment to watch the other man. Even in his disheveled state, he’s still perfect. His heart twists at this unsolicited admission. It takes a second for Cas to notice that Dean has entered the room, eyes widening when they land on him.

“Hello Dean,” He says. Dean crosses the small space, coming around the counter. His expression is impassive.

“Hi Cas,” He says softly. They stand there for a second in awkward silence, neither one really knowing what to say.

“How have you been?” Cas finally asks. Dean shrugs lamely, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coveralls.

“Same, I guess,” He answers, “You?”

“My charges were dropped.” He replies, “Balthazar told me what you did. I wanted to thank you.” Dean smiles briefly in response.

“Least I could do, Cas,” Dean mutters gruffly, focusing on his shoes.

“The least you could’ve done is nothing,” Cas counters, “Thank you. It means a lot.” His voice is sincere and when Dean catches his gaze, his blue eyes are clear and bright.

“What are you doing here, Cas?” Dean voice is pained. He’s spent the last few weeks burying all of his anger and pain toward this man. Having him stand here with that sweet, hopeful look on his face is bringing everything bubbling to the surface. Cas frowns at the question.

“Dean I… “ Cas starts, fiddling with a string on his jacket, “I owe you an apology.” Dean tenses at the words.

“No,” He says flatly. Cas raises his head.

“Dean-” He starts.

“No, Cas,” Dean interupts, “I don’t want an apology. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not about pity. I don’t pity you,” Cas’ eyes are so sincere and Dean didn’t realize until this moment how badly he missed them.

“I know… I know this might be a waste of time, but I need to say this,” Cas continues, “I care about you. Very deeply, in fact.” Dean looks away, not able to look at Cas. He doesn’t want to hear this. His pride is telling him to hate this man and never see him again.

“I’m not very experienced with relationships. They don’t often happen for me and the ones I have had have been… casual at best,” Cas shrugs and takes a step toward Dean, causing the other man to step back. Dean doesn’t say anything, just absorbing Cas’ words.

“I know it’s a long shot, but if you can find it in yourself to give me a second chance…”  
“What is your deal, Cas?” Dean barks, anger spilling over, “What? Are you Lonely? Horny?”

“This isn’t about sex!” Cas blurts out, “That is the last thing I want from you.” Dean raises a brow at that, “Well, ok, maybe not the last thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom ten, ok? We could take sex off the table completely. For a month, a year, five years, I don’t care I just want to be with you!” Dean deflates slightly, Cas’ energy draining his anger.

“I know you probably don’t want me anymore, and I wouldn’t blame you if said no, but I needed to ask you.” Cas pulls at his sweat-matted hair, “Because If I didn’t then I would never stop wondering and I would hate myself more than I already do.” His voice is small and he self-consciously picks at his fingernails.

“Cas...” Dean starts, but he has no idea what to say.

“I want to take you out. Properly, with all the wining and dining and flowers and romantic stuff that you deserve.” Cas looks up confidently at that, “You want a relationship, I will date the Hell out of you!” Dean can’t help bursting with laughter, in spite of himself. He shakes his head, exasperated, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

“The Hell, Cas?” Dean finally says, “What gives you the right?” Cas’ face falls and he swallows hard.

“You show up here with your big blue eyes and, and you say all of this sweet shit,” Dean looks down, grimacing, a crinkle forming between his brow, “What happens when work starts stressing you out again, or shit gets hard? What then? Am I going to be disposable again?” He glances up to see Cas’ expression crumble. He takes a step toward Dean.

“No, Dean. No,” He moves closer and this time Dean doesn’t move away, “Never again.” He takes another step, moving into Dean’s personal space.

“Cas,” Dean says. Cas presses his forehead into Dean’s. The scent of cinnamon gum and old spice seems to envelop him.

“Please, Dean,” Cas whimpers, his voice breaking.

“You’re an asshole,” Dean mumbles, but there is no fight in his words. He can feel Cas’ breath ghost over his cheek. The warmth of his body is magnetic and it seems to draw Dean closer to him.

Their lips touch lightly. It’s just a warm, chaste connection. Dean allows his lips to move over Cas’ and the taste of him causes something to surge up Dean’s spine, pressing harder into the kiss. In an instant, the kiss becomes fevered. Cas’ hand run over Dean’s neck, cradling the back of his head. His hands clench at Cas’ hips, pulling him close as Cas’ tongue tangles with Dean’s, drawing a moan from deep within him. Every emotion he had shoved deep down rises to the surface.

“I swear to God,” Dean says, pulling out of the kiss, “If you are fucking with me I will _murder_ you.” Cas lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ll have to get in line behind Balthazar and your brother,” he replies.

“You talked to Sam?” Dean asks, furrowing his brow. Cas smiles shyly

“I went to your place to find you and but you weren’t there and I didn’t know where you worked,” Cas mumbles shyly.

“You know you could’ve called me,” Dean offers, nuzzling Cas’ cheek.

“You said to lose your number,” he replies. Dean pulls back and stares at him. He laughs affectionately.

“Oh my God, Cas, never change,” Dean captures Cas’ lips once more before suddenly pulling away, “No, wait, scratch that _do_ change. You have a boyfriend now. Act like it! Do all of that romantic shit you promised.”

“Boyfriend?” Cas says with a giggle, raising an eyebrow. Dean smirks at him.

“Yeah. Boyfriend,” he answers, “You got a problem with that?” Cas laughs brightly.

“Not in the least,” he responds before rushing forward for another kiss. They kiss tenderly for another minute when Dean draws back once more.

“I, um, I have another couple hours of work, but let me see if I can talk to Bobby about leaving a little early.” Cas nods. Dean turns around to see Bobby standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and wearing his trademark “Old Coot” frown.

“Get outta here, ya idgits,” He says, “Y’all two are givin’ me diabeetus.” Bobby disappears from the doorway. Dean turns back at Cas with a grin.

“Let me get changed,” He says. Dean hurries to the back room, stripping out of his coveralls and pulling on a clean tshirt. He rushes back to the front lobby. Cas is standing just where he left him, reading a brochure on door panels. Dean walks around the counter.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let’s get going.” Cas holds the door open for Dean, and he can’t help the beatific grin that blooms over his face. Dean shakes his head, grabs his boyfriend’s hand, pulling him toward the impala.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos and commenting. It means so much and is the best motivation. 
> 
> A sweet, fluffy (smutty) epilogue will follow shortly. It will be attached to this installment, so keep an eye out.


	3. Epilogue- Charges Dismissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the epilogue

Castiel slowly drifts into consciousness. Early morning sunshine peeks out through the cracks in the shutters and over his face. Cas rolls over to avoid light, hand flopping onto Dean’s side of the bed, finding it empty but still warm. His eyes blink open in confusion. He lifts his head to scan the small hotel room, noticing Dean, completely naked, leaning halfway out of their open window.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas mumbles, voice still thick from sleep.

“People watching,” Dean replies with a shrug, not turning around. Cas runs a hand through his bed-head and grabs his phone off of the night stand.

“It’s 6:30,” He says with a shake of his head.

“So?” Dean answers, shifting on his feet. For a long moment, Castiel is hypnotized by the muscles of Dean’s ass as they move beneath the freckled skin. Castiel smiles unconsciously as he watches his boyfriend.

“We went to bed at 2,” Cas says, getting back on track. Dean turns to look at Cas, shooting him a thousand-watt grin.

“I’m just taking it all in,” Dean says, “We could totally spend the summer here.”

“You could, maybe,” Cas says standing up and letting the bed sheet fall away from his own nakedness, “I don’t have that many vacation days.” It had been Dean’s idea to drive down to Key West for Sam’s spring break. Balthazar was able to hook them up with a friend who owned a small hotel in the center of Old Town and gave them a good deal. Cas had tried to convince Bal to join them with the promise of Co-eds, but the man had shied away, claiming he got enough of his and Dean’s sugary-sweet behavior the other 51 weeks of the year.

They had packed up the Impala with junk food, sunscreen and mix tapes and hit the road minutes after the last bell rang at Sam’s high school. The trip happened to fall on Sam’s birthday as well, so they were taking to opportunity to celebrate that while they were down here. Dean’s gift to Sam was his very first fake ID, emblazoned with the name ‘Steve Rogers’ _(“I was going to have them put Thor Odinson, but that seemed a little too obvious” Dean said as he handed it over)_. Cas’ present to Sam was his own hotel room, much to the younger man’s joy and relief.

The drive had been uneventful, save for a required detour to Clearwater to visit Castiel’s parents. Dean had been nervous, despite Cas’ assurances that there was no reason for it. His father had been quiet but friendly and his mother had been suitably doting on both Sam and Dean. Cas hoped that they wouldn’t feel too awkward around his folks, but both Winchesters seemed to thrive under the attention. At one point, after Dean spent 20 minutes raving about her caramel apple pie before devouring two-thirds of it, Cas’ mom caught her son’s eye, gave him a small smirk, and mouthed the words “keep this one”. His parents had hugged both Sam and Dean tightly when they left and promises were made all around that all three would return for Christmas _(“Are you sure that’s ok, Dean?” Cas said once they were on the road. “Home cooking and not having to deal with snow?” Dean responded, “Of course, it’s ok!”)_

Dean stands up and stretches, the muscles of his arms and torso shivering in response.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Dean admits as he crawls back on their bed, “I’m too excited to be here.” They had arrived yesterday afternoon, and Dean had been eager to see everything as soon as they had checked in. It had only been Sam’s protest about being dead on his feet that had them returning to their rooms when they did.

“I know you are,” Cas reaches out and pulls Dean into his arms, kissing him softly on the forehead, “Let’s just rest a little while longer.” Cas shuts his eyes and lays back against the pillow. Dean’s rough hands run up and down Cas’ side, the sensitive skin twitching under his touch. Cas hums a protest, murmuring ‘ticklish’, which only seems to encourage Dean. He drapes himself over Cas as he plants soft kisses over his collarbone and up his neck. Cas can feel the rasp of Dean’s stubble as the younger man nuzzles against his throat. His hands drift down over Cas’ abdomen, his fingers lightly grazing over the soft trail of hair just below his navel. A warm tongue sucks at the skin over the pulse point of Cas’ neck. Cas inhales deeply and groans in response.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas asks slyly, know the other man is fully aware of his actions.

“Motivating you to wake up,” Dean says, his words muffled as mouths down Cas’ neck. his hand drifts lower, brushing Cas’ hardening cock. Cas hisses, reaching out and grabbing Dean’s arms tightly.

“If you keep doing that,” Cas breathes, staring at Dean with sleepy eyes, “I might just pin you down and keep you in bed for another couple hours.” Dean pulls back and gives him a cocky smirk.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Cas,” he chides, “You gonna break out the handcuffs again?” Cas’ gaze goes dark and he surges forward, capturing Dean’s mouth with his own. His hands wrap around the back of Dean’s neck as he pulls him on top. Dean closes his eyes and falls into the kiss, Cas mouth warm and demanding. He hums as Cas’ tongue sweeps over his lips. Dean’s fingers fan over Cas’ chest; the rise and fall beneath his hands is somehow exhilarating. Dean he pushes off from Cas’ mouth and trails wet kisses down his neck, Cas stretching in response.

Dean slowly slides down Cas’ body, his eyes never leaving the other man’s face. Cas watches with hooded eyes as Dean continues his course. He inhales sharply as Dean passes over his navel and follows the trail of hair toward his intended destination.

Of all the wonders in the world, Cas doesn’t believe there will ever be a sight as glorious as this: Dean’s lips just barely brushing over the head of his cock, tongue darting out to lap up and emerging bead of precome. His member bounces in response to the lightest touch and a shiver runs through Cas.

“Dean,” He breathes. Dean just glances at him and smiles coyly before wrapping his lips around the shaft and swallowing him down. It’s a familiar sensation, Dean giving a blow-job, but Cas doesn’t think he will ever stop being fascinated by it. Dean works his throat open slowly, letting the length of Cas cock slide all the way down until he is buried to the hilt. He swallows, causing Cas to cry out in surprise at the sudden sensation. Cas wants to watch him, but every flick of his tongue or pull of his mouth has Cas’ head shooting back against the pillow.

He huffs as the familiar tightening curls in his abdomen. He fists Dean’s hair and gently pulls him off with a wet noise.

“On your back,” Cas demands, slightly breathless. Dean does as he is told, rolling over onto his side of the bed as Cas reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. Dean spreads his legs as Cas leans over him. He works him open slowly, distracting him with kisses and dirty promises.

“Love the way you feel,” Cas murmurs, stretching and scissoring him open, “So tight, so perfect. Can’t wait to have my cock inside you. Fuck you until all you can say is my name.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans, hands gripping his shoulders, “Want you now. Please fuck me.” Cas captures Dean’s mouth in a heated kiss and he works in a third finger. He brushes against that bundle of nerves inside of him and feels Dean moaning into his mouth. he removes his fingers and coats himself generously before positioning the head of his cock right over Dean’s hole.

As he thrusts in, Dean cries out loudly. He grips Dean’s hips and pulls him up so he can go deeper. Dean meets Cas for every thrust. He wraps his legs around Cas’ middle as the other man fucks into him.

Cas lets his forehead rest against Dean’s. They are both panting heavily, neither caring about their morning breath. Every surge forward earns a guttural moan from Dean. He digs his heels into the small of Cas’ back.

“So close, Cas,” He mumbles. Cas presses himself up onto his forearms and doubles his pace. He can feel Dean clench around him just before hot ropes of come paint across Dean’s stomach. Cas follows seconds after with a groan, tensing as his orgasm washes over him.

He suddenly feels boneless and let’s himself fall over Dean, not caring about the sticky mess between them. He lazily rolls over and looks at Dean, who looks seconds away from going back to sleep. Cas snorts lightly, causing Dean to open one eye and look at him.

“What?” he asks. Cas gives him a small smile.

“I love you,” he says quietly. It’s not the first time he’s said it, nor the second or third or tenth. But every time he does, Dean has the brightest smile, like he’s never said it before. He leans over and kisses Cas tenderly.

“Love you, too,” he whispers. He moves in closer, their lips about to meet when there is a knock at the door.

“Dean? Cas?” Sam says hesitantly. He learned several months ago that if Cas and Dean are alone in a room, it’s always better to knock. “Are either of you able to come to the door right now?”

“Depends on your level of comfort with nudity, Sammy,” Dean yells out. Cas smacks his arm playfully and Sam’s ‘Seriously, Dean?’ can be heard on the other side of the door.

“Not really,” Cas Answers.

“I’m going to grab some breakfast and coffee. You want anything?” Sam asks. Cas is already getting off the bed.

“Yeah. Hold on, Sam,” he replies. He finds his shorts on the floor and digs for his wallet, pulling out a twenty. He opens the door just enough to hand Sam the money and mumble a thanks.

“So what do you want to do today?” Cas asks closing the door. He walks in to their en suite bathroom and wets a washcloth, tossing it to Dean as he re-enters the room.

“I don’t know,” Dean says, wiping the leftover spunk off of his stomach, “I think Sam wanted to see the Hemingway Museum sometime. We could do that.” Cas flops back on the bed next to Dean.

“Sounds good,” Cas replies, “ We need to go snorkeling, too, as long as we’re down here. Get out into open water.” Dean raises an eyebrow at the words ‘open water’, but Cas distracts him with a gentle kiss.

“If you say so, Officer,” Dean murmurs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos and commenting.


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